


Sherlock The Vampire Slayer

by JustAnotherAmatuer



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, Character Death, Dying John, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Protective John, Protective Sherlock, Slayer, Slaypire, Vampire John, Vampire Sherlock, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampire Turning, Vamplock, Young Sherlock, possible johnlock - Freeform, young john - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherAmatuer/pseuds/JustAnotherAmatuer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been done before but I wanted to combine the universe of BBC Sherlock and Buffy The Vampire Slayer, John and Sherlock were both activated in 2003 and met while training with the Watchers Council (In my world it still exists), This is a collection of their adventures may not be chronological order and will have time jumping. My first attempt at writing fan fiction feedback will be greatly appreciated Thank you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock The Vampire Slayer

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick 'pilot' chapter, just trying out the format. Please let me know what you think and thanks for reading in advance.

"In every generation there is a Chosen One. They alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. They are the Slayer. The Council fights evil. The Slayer is the instrument with which we fight. The Council remains. The Slayers... change. It's been that way from the beginning." A middle aged man strolled back and forth along the line of newly activated slayers. "Times have changed, now. You are not alone, you share this bond and this responsibility. Embrace it, it's your destiny, your heritage and you should be proud of it. Now..."

There were six students. Three girls and three boys, all stood perfectly  hands behind their backs. Sally Donovan, Greg Lestrade ,Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Molly Hooper and Ben Gray. All of them young, strong and could be great Slayers providing they had the training. Sally, Greg, Molly and John would be easy to train, they respected him, they knew that he had the knowledge that would keep them alive. Ben was distant and had a rebellious streak which the watcher deemed as dangerous. Sherlock was a self proclaimed sociopath and was here only because of his brothers position in the government and the council. The intelligence and the instincts the boy had was phenomenal but so was his arrogance. It will get him killed, he needed to be controlled he was more than dangerous, a loose cannon, one touch could be all it could take. He knew all about the infamous Sherlock Holmes, heavy substance abuse, dropping out of university to go and be as he had put it 'Consulting detective.' Now he was here and it seems to be if he is disturbing from something more important. What can be more important than his destiny?

Sherlock stood there next to the others he stuck out like a sore thumb, the rest seemed to belong there, they looked like slayers. He didn't as usual fit in, he didn't care of course. He picked them apart one by one. Deducing, pulling together their life stories in nanoseconds. John and Molly were nervous, Donovan and Lestrade were attentive as they always would be. The other one Sherlock had already forgotten his name was the silent type brought on by psychological distress, family murdered while he could do nothing but watch? scar on right temple, claw mark, before activation, approximately 8.2 centimetres in length and 3 centimetres wide, Hannoch Demon, Survivor's guilt. The watcher was spouting philosophical nonsense intending to induce sentiment, dull. He was only here as a formality and because he was curious about the other slayers, what made you a 'potential?' How did the slayers compare to each other. while he was staying here and training he could analyse and experiment as freely as possible without arousing suspicion.

The Training Hall was as you expected, huge, full of old apparatus many that hadn't been changed since the twenties, swords and axes in their places on the wall. In the middle was a row of Straw filled sacks moulded to replicate bodies with targets on the head and chest. Sherlock stood at the entrance, he expected it to be empty, it was 3 AM. He watched the silhouetted figure at the far end of the room in the darkness, male, 5ft6, short hair, John. Attacking the punching bag like a man possessed, feral, relying on instincts rather than training. landing blow after blow. Sherlock was enthralled, never had he seen anything like it. This continued until the bag could take no more and was flung across the room along with the chain it was suspended from thanks to a very well landed uppercut. Sherlock stared at John. He could see that he was covered with sweat, his breath heavy and even in the near blackness you could see the white of his teeth bared like a wild animal. Sherlock was enthralled. He stored everything away in his mind palace in a new room, John's room. John then ruffled his hands through his hair and pacing backwards and forwards.

After a few moments Sherlock slipped away before he was detected. Leaving John alone.

John had suffered another nightmare, and after a nightmare he trained, it was his way of fighting what he couldn't do in his sleep, the memories of what happened at the Hellmouth were still fresh in his memory. He was there with the Turok-Han. He saw many of his friends die that day. He was a Slayer he was used to battle and death, but he could actually feel a part of the death around him and he felt emptier with every slayer that fell. Amanda, Sonya, Carl, Neeve, Lee, Arnold the list of names went on. He then remembered the burning in his shoulder, the nothing. Faith herself had carried him out. spent two weeks recovering Now he was sent here to be 'trained.' So he was put on the sideline for a while. He relived the battle every night. And then he trained every night, till his body or the thing he was hitting couldn't take anymore. Tonight the bag broke before he got hardly his frustration out. Tonight he would have to fight some other thing. He wanted to fight something real, a threat, he wanted to slay. He was ready, He didn't need to be wrapped in cotton wool like the others, he was more experienced and he had slayed before. He could take a vampire or two tonight. He took three stakes and snuck out a nearby window.

The cool night air felt good, more than good on his overheated body. He tried to think of where the vampire population of Nottingham would go.  He decided to go to the Cemetery Lodge Graveyard. It was quiet and beautiful as expected he noticed a open fresh grave, damn had missed it rising. He tried to think where it would go, it would be dawn soon. He then saw not one but two trails of foot prints leading away from he grave. He quickly but cautiously followed the direction of the prints they lead through the trees, through into the church. He didn't want to go in guns blazing there could be many in there, waiting for him. He moved around the small building and peeked through the stained glass window. He was shocked at what he saw.

Sherlock was underneath a very capable vampire, John was guessing he was old and experienced possibly a master. Sherlock needed his help. John ran to the door, making sure he was silent. The vampire had pinned Sherlock to floor, John threw his stake as hard as he could landing it in the centre of the vampire's back and thankfully before it had a chance to lean in for Sherlock, it stopped looked at it's own chest before it exploded into a cloud of dust.

Sherlock lay there coughing, his vision blurred by the dust. He could still make the figure out and another one behind. John began to approach. Before Sherlock could even warn him, John felt his spine tingle and had launched into the air and flipped backwards behind the fledgling, knocking it to the floor with his feet in the process, as he landed he pulled another stake from his jacket and plunged it into the heart, all in one extremely swift motion.

"There are dozens, The truce has been broken!" Sherlock shouted. He jumped up from the floor and sprinted down the aisle

John looked around to see countless more, perched on gargoyles, at the edge of the room, everywhere, their amber eyes glowing in the blackness. He then turned to Sherlock. "What tru-." Sherlock grabbed John's hand and practically dragged him towards the door. "later!" he balled, as they bursted out of the door and into the graveyard. They were sprinting hand in hand. They cleared the 6ft fence in one leap and were onto the Streets Of Nottingham. Adrenaline and Slayer speed combined meant their legs carried them for miles. Never looking back, They cut through ally's and over buildings, They ran straight past the headquarters, through a very famous forest. John finally made Sherlock stop when he realised they were in the safety of daylight. They both looked down at their joined hands and quickly let go.

"I believe we haven't been properly introduced, Sherlock Holmes" He held out his hand.

John reciprocated with a firm handshake.

"John Watson" Sherlock looked down at his hand and then back up. "Tell me something John, Sunnydale or Cleveland."

"Sorry?" John questioned, a confused look on his face.   
"Which was it, Sunnydale or Cleveland? " Sherlock repeated  
"Sunnydale. Sorry, how did you?" John asked  
"How do you feel about the violin?"  
"I'm sorry, what?"  
"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. would that bother you? Potential roommates should know the worst about each other." Sherlock turned and begin the long walk back to the house.  
John followed "You've been told about me? Who said anything about roommates? How did you know about Sunnydale?"   
"I know you're a more experienced slayer than anyone else here and you've been invalided home after a battle at Sunnydale. And I know that your watcher thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. We are assigned two to a room and we have  been here eighteen hours. Your baggage is still downstairs, as is mine so I assumed you haven't spoken to anyone enough for the subject to come up. Its not too far to assume everyone else has found theirs, don't you think?"  
John was in awe for the rest of the walk. Sherlock gave a monologue about the science of deduction and how he was the world's only 'consulting detective', his true calling. He told John's life story for him, and then he told John about himself.  
They snuck back through the very same window that John has snuck out of and were straight upstairs, bringing their bags up with them. straight into the last empty room. As they were packing away their things John finally spoke. "That's brilliant, you pull together everything from nothing! Seeing and picking out the smallest things." Sherlock turned around sounding more annoyed than necessary. "I don't see, I observe, that is the difference, everyone is so boring and stupid John. so predictable they don't know what's there practically slapping them in their faces." his tone softened slightly "Yet you are different, somehow I find your company bearable, pleasant even, why is that so?"

And so their life at the watchers training ground began...

 

 


End file.
